The Treacley Days

The Treacley Days

Some days are just treacley. 

Moving my body is hard, concrete boots weigh down my legs as I try to wade through wet sand making no progress. 

Clarity of thought is lost in the million post it notes of half thoughts that line the walls of my mind and I can’t focus on any one of them. 

My eye lids are heavy with the desire to stay closed. I feel like I am trapped in a zorb ball but not in an outdoor adventure fun way. Like I can see the outside world and I can function within it but it’s all just a bit harder than it usually is.  

In the weeks that immediately followed Ottilie’s stillbirth I felt like this a lot. We both did. We often talked about wading through treacle, like being in slow motion.  

There were moments when I knew people were there or that I was watching TV but like I had some sort of forcefield around me pinging all the words back out before I could absorb them. 

Derealisation is a diagnosable symptom of anxiety or response to trauma. The sense that you are detached, in a dreamlike state or that the world around you is somehow not real. So often we think about the symptoms of anxiety being manic or rapid but it is important to note how many forms there are and that sometimes slowness is also a response. 

A common symptom of depression is to feel heavy, weighed down or suffocated by an unknown factor. Another slowness that I think is often overlooked in representations of mental illness in our cultural and artistic references. 

A description I read of the “slow motion anxiety symptom” from a Canadian anxiety support site said among other symptoms:

• It feels like your internal self has become slowed down, like mush, like everything in is slow motion.
• It feels like even your thinking and emotional self is in slow motion. 

Yeah – treacley, that’s exactly what I said. Yet again the sense that I am not alone in these thoughts and feelings helps make them feel a little easier to manage. 

I am not diagnosing myself as suffering PTSD, anxiety or depression, although the death of your unborn daughter would be a reasonably sound catalyst for all three. But I am noticing a change in my ability to just keep going. I set myself high standards and have a packed life of career, family, social life and making sure that the washing is sorted properly because if green things go in with blue things who knows what might happen. (I know it would be fine – but like I said, I set myself up for this kind of self imposed pressure and I am not prepared to risk it) We gave ourselves time after Ottilie was born and now I have to remember to continue to do that. A treacly day can sometimes be a reminder to slow down a bit.  

As the shock of lockdown living has abated I have noticed a few articles on how the enforced slowness we are all experiencing at the moment has benefitted some that have struggled with prolonged periods of depression and anxiety. I suppose I can relate in a way to the comfort found in not having to be anywhere or do anything because you are not missing out or letting anyone down. I can balance that with missing my family and friends and looking forward to being able to hug those closest to me again but it makes sense to me that as the world slowed down it has given some the chance to catch up. 

 As time moves on I have less treacley days. Sometimes they come for what seems like no reason or can be linked to an obvious cause. They always pass quicker than they did now and a lighter day will almost certainly follow. I have found acknowledging the treacle and thinking about why I feel that way is better than ignoring it and carrying on regardless. I don’t think I would have done that before. Giving myself the option to submit means that I rarely do, something my life without Ottilie has taught me.